


und die Engelstrompete singt

by lethargicProfessor



Series: tintype afterimage [8]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: Marie remembers seeing.
Series: tintype afterimage [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/514300
Kudos: 8





	und die Engelstrompete singt

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not to be reproduced or reposted on any site or app other than Archive of Our Own, Tumblr, and WordPress (LPWrites/LethargicProfessor). This work is available for free on these sites, and is **not to be used or sold for profit by any third parties or apps.**

Marie remembers seeing.

He remembers his home, and the tree that used to grow in the yard, gnarled branches just the right height to climb up, past the fork in the branches where the swallows nested. He remembers climbing it with friends, hiding away from their chores while his mother called for them, scurrying down it on skinned knees and palms, remembers the soft sound of her disapproval, the sight of the pleats of her apron, always neat, always presentable.

(He does not remember his mother’s face, or the color of her eyes and her hair.)

He knows the names of colors, knows the sky is blue and the grass is green and that the apples his brother used to steal from the market were red, red like blood on the battlefield and red like the sting of injuries on his hands. He remembers the ethereal green of Innocence, when he was chosen the first time, when the rings first slid, too warm, into place.

Marie knows the one color he will never forget is green. That sickly glow, the innocence casting shadows on the faces of the dead, the last thing he saw before his vision was taken away.

No one could forget that.

-

Master Tiedoll means well, Marie knows this, but sometimes it feels like the old man teases Kanda just to see him fume. It’s funny, he’s been told, but he can hear the beat of Kanda’s heart whenever Tiedoll’s playful words go too far.

It’s strange; he’s gotten so used to the young man’s heartbeat that Marie could easily pick it out in a crowd of hundreds, if not thousands. He’s aware, of course, of Kanda’s history, and he remembers enough of their first encounter – the sounds deafening and the smell of blood and sick and the stagnant water and the stink of death tying it all together – but it’s more than that.

When Marie visits Tiedoll for advice, the old man chuckles and slides a cup of coffee closer to Marie’s hands.

“Dear boy,” he murmurs, and Marie can hear the way the fondness colors his tone. He imagines the man’s face, worn but not without life. “Yuu is your family, as you are his. You’re brothers, that’s all.”

The words make sense, and Tiedoll wouldn’t be purposefully mean to any of them, but Marie mulls over it just the same.

He had a brother once. He was older, broader than Marie was then, making it easier for him to hide from the elder’s wrath. Marie remembers the reassuring squeezes on his shoulder, and the quick swats he would give him on the back of the head for no reason except for the fact that they were brothers.

Marie sits and meditates with Kanda, letting the sounds of his heartbeat, steady and strong and true, march their way through the scant memories he’s starting to lose.

He doesn’t know what happened to his older brother, but he remembers the security his presence gave him when he was young. He hopes then, that Kanda will see him as a source of security in these trying times.

-

Daisya was an older brother. He had mentioned it to Marie in passing several times, as he curled up against Kanda and Marie and Tiedoll on long missions. He was a tactile sort, and Marie could appreciate that.

Often, Daisya would describe things for Marie in detail, not because he thought Marie was lacking in vision, but because it’s what he would do for his siblings, when experiencing something new. He would hold onto Marie’s arm, or his sleeve, because the touch was a comfort.

Marie never had the heart to tell Daisya he didn’t need to do any of that, because it was as obvious as the beat of his heart that Daisya needed Marie, and needed a reason to be needed.

In his darker moments, Marie wonders still if that isn’t what got Daisya killed.

But Daisya was a good man, and he cared for others, cared for Master Tiedoll and Kanda and for Marie himself the same way he cared about his siblings and his family. That much Marie is sure of.

He meditates, and his mind wanders idly to Daisya’s siblings, whom he’s never met, but has heard enough to form a picture in his head. He wonders if the youngest still remember their eldest brother, or if they’ve forgotten Daisya’s face the same way Marie’s forgotten his brother’s.

They’ll never know what happened to Daisya, and it’s for the best. They cannot be allowed to mourn, not in the war they’re facing. Better he fade into obscurity, than drag the souls of those he loved into hell.

He hopes that, even as he’s forgotten his family, they too have forgotten him. He can’t begin to imagine what it would be like, fighting akuma in their grotesque, inhuman forms while the souls of his loved ones linger within, crying out to him.

Allen Walker explained once, the inner workings of an akuma’s soul. Since then, Marie has made it a point not to listen to their screams as they handle their task.

He worries that, if he listens close enough, he might hear a familiar voice in the chaos.


End file.
